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The Bachelor Isn't Interested/Chapter Four
Chapter Four: Impress for Success “Okay, team, we have six tries to impress Chris-” “Unlike the last challenge, which we totally bombed.” “Shut up, Allison!” Avery snarled at her teammate. “As I was saying, we have six tries to impress Chris, so I’d say we’re in pretty good shape.” The Oscars had gathered in one of the upstairs rooms of La Mansión Malvada, which seemed to be a personal library judging by the bookcases surrounding them. Nine of the teammates sat on furniture around the room, while Avery paced back and forth in the center. “First thing’s first,” Avery stopped and put her hands behind her back, “who thinks they’re talented?” All but Isaac’s and Robert’s hands went up, Isaac because he’d fallen asleep on the couch and Robert because he was focused on reading a book that he’d taken off a shelf. “Hey, raise your hand.” Angel nudged Robert in the side, though he didn’t respond until the pyromaniac took the book from him. “Oh, thanks.” Robert’s hand joined his teammates’ in the air. Angel gave him a look of concern, as the book the jock had been so enthralled with was actually a prop that was filled with lorem ipsum text. Avery nodded in approval at Robert and then glared at Isaac. “Somebody wake him up.” The eight other Oscars immediately scooted as far from the sleeping blond as possible, nobody wanting to be the one to do the job. Avery huffed. “Fine. I’ll do it.” The team’s self-appointed leader marched up to the slumbering nuisance, her heels clicking on the tiled floor with every step. She approached where his head was resting on the arm of the couch, leaning down until her face was just inches from his. The rest of the team observed in curious silence as she took a deep breath. “GET UP YOU GOOD FOR NOTHING SLACKER!” It wasn’t obvious if Isaac had woken up or not until he stretched his arms, propping them behind his head. “Five more minutes, okay?” “No, not five more minutes!” Avery stomped her foot. “We are a team and we’re not going to let you sit back and do nothing!” Isaac opened his eyes halfway and smirked at the sight of the fuming girl leaning over him. “I wasn’t ‘doing nothing.’ I was hard at work having a dream about you and me.” The brunette clenched her jaw. “Get. Up.” “Who made you queen?” She slapped him across the face, and he instantly sat up. She crossed her arms triumphantly with a satisfied smile. “''I'' did.” Isaac sneered as The Queen resumed her position in front of her team. “So, all but one of us thinks they’re talented, which was to be expected since the untalented loser should’ve been voted off at the last elimination-” “You say I ‘should’ve,’ but I wasn’t.” Isaac interrupted. “I’m still here, so deal with it.” The Jersey girl ignored the slacker. “How many of you believe that your talent can actually impress Chris?” Camille’s and Robert’s hands went down. Avery counted the hands still in the air. “That’s seven counting me. Angel, what do you do?” “Burn things,” was the Puerto Rican’s curt reply. The Queen raised an eyebrow. “No, I meant for your talent.” “Burn things.” Angel repeated. Avery sighed and moved on to the next contestant. “What do you do, Eric?” “The better question is what don’t I do. I’m a jack of all trades.” The athlete got up from the floor to stand next to Avery in the center of the room. “I will crush anybody at any sport, unless it’s something lame like gymnastics, ‘cause I’m not wearing some stupid leotard. I am the king of swag and can take down any man in my neighborhood. All the girls want me, and all the guys want to be me. I have the world’s best rock collection. I-” “Okay, we get it, sit down.” Avery pushed Eric out of her space and onto the couch. She skimmed her eyes to the next contestant, Irina, though she skipped right over her and pointed at Cara. “Granola Girl, what’s your talent?” “Well, I-” “Hey, wait a minute!” Irina interjected. “Why did you skip me?” “Your talent’s going to be looking sexy.” Isaac explained for Avery. “We already know that … though if you have some other not safe for work talents, you can meet me in Room 304 tonight and show them off.” Irina’s jaw dropped in offense. “First of all, I am way out of your league, and second, you shouldn’t underestimate me just because I’m attractive. I’m intelligent and very literate, so I could write Chris a poem!” “Is English even your first language?” Eric asked. The model was quiet for a minute. “Well, no, but that’s not the point.” “Let’s just get back to the real matter at hand, please.” Avery spoke over her teammates’ chatter. “Now, Cara, what do you do?” Confession Cam Irina: “As usual, I’m treated like some stupid piece of eye candy.” The words rolled roughly from the blonde’s mouth, her accent thickening with her annoyance. “Beauty and personality aren’t an either/or situation. I work in an industry based off of appearance, but that’s just my job. I knew I could make money for it, so I would be a fool to turn it down. Not every attractive blonde is as dumb as Lindsay, and I just want to be taken seriously for once!” On the other side of the mansion, The Emmys were having a much easier time deciding who would use their four chances to impress Chris. Monique, Donna, Minerva, Risty, and Sebastian decided that their individual talents weren’t anything that the host would be interested in, taking their names out of the race. From that point, they established that Chris was only interested in three things: money, fame, and himself … but mostly himself. “Well, I’m out.” Zack announced. “My talents all revolve around electronics, so he won’t care unless I build a robot replica of him.” “You know, that’s actually a pretty good idea.” Wes laughed. “I’m sure he’d love a chance to finally be able to make out with himself.” “Ew, I really didn’t need that mental picture.” Monique whined, sticking out her tongue as Zack burst into cackles. “Wes, you’re totally right!” Zack struggled to contain his laughter. “If it were possible with the time constraints, I’d definitely try it, but I’m going to back out on this one.” “I’m not interested anymore either.” Elena agreed. “I don’t cater to others.” “Well, that just leaves Ophelia, Wes, Gabe, and Victor.” Risty said. “Do all four of you think you’re up to the challenge?” “I’ll paint him a beautiful portrait!” Ophelia sung. “It’s nowhere near as cool as a robot, but maybe I could write him a song?” Wes proposed. “He seemed into music in World Tour.” “What about you two?” Monique questioned Gabe and Victor. “You seem like you’d rather one-up him than amaze him.” “I’ll just give him money.” Gabe shrugged. “I have plenty to spare.” “And I have no idea what to do.” Victor confessed. “I just ended up being one of the only four people not to back out.” “You’re an actor, so I’m sure you have tons of skills.” Ophelia said. “I doubt he wants to hear a monologue.” “Yes, but he’d probably like to hear a poem.” Donna suggested. “You can finally put your mental index of cheesy Shakespeare quotes to good use.” Victor scowled. “Contrary to theater actor stereotype, I don’t do romantic stuff for guys.” Donna rolled her eyes. “So pretend he’s a girl. If it helps, Chris is a unisex nickname.” Though he was still reluctant, Victor eventually sighed in defeat. “Fine. Somebody find me a piece of paper.” Confession Cam Victor: “I’m not exactly the best with poetry, but I guess I’ll find a way to make it work. I don’t want them to think I’m giving up or something. The thing is, I’m an actor, not an author. I belong on the stage, not behind the curtain.” “Let’s see … where on this film lot is an area that a) has enough sun for plants to grow and b) isn’t destroyed and paved over to benefit big industries?” “Maybe we’ll stumble upon a secret garden!” Cara furrowed her brow at Camille. “I really doubt it.” In an attempt to appeal to the host’s vanity, Cara had decided to give him a bouquet of flowers that represented his sparkling personality. The problem was that she was confined to the artificial sets of McLean Studios, which was within the mostly industrialized Major City, so she had no idea where to find plants that were not made of plastic. Though a few decorative trees were planted between the sets, Cara couldn’t exactly lug a whole birch back to the mansion and expect Chris to love it. Unwilling to give up just yet, Cara had set off on a trek to find some flowers, with Camille agreeing to accompany her on the impossible journey. “I can’t believe this!” Cara exclaimed as they walked the perimeter of a castle set. “''This'' is exactly why we need to be more environmentally conscious. If we don’t pay attention, more and more areas will turn out like this!” “It’s not that bad.” Camille patted a hand against the stone wall of the castle. “This set’s kind of pretty.” “I’m sure it looked a lot prettier before all of this was built on top of it.” “Well, I’m sure at least some of it was worth it!” The ditz tried to cheer her roommate up as they moved on to search around the edges of a rather nondescript building. “The diner we saw back there was really cute … a bit dirty for my taste, but still cute! And there’s that coliseum we saw on the first day. I thought that was magnificent!” “But the rest of the studio is just a concrete wasteland.” Cara groaned as they approached a small wooden shed. As she took a lap around it, Camille pressed her face against the small window beside the front door. Cara was looking behind the shed when she heard her roommate shriek and rushed back to her. “What’s wrong?!” Camille had backed away from the shed and held her purse close to her chest, her body shivering in fear. “The shack is filled with guns!” “What?!” Cara cupped her hands around her eyes and peered in through the dusty glass. Many of the items in the shed were covered with a white sheet, though several opened cardboard boxes on the floor were filled with packs of paintballs. A gun rack leaned against the back wall of the shed, with sixteen large paintball guns stored on it. “Ugh, this place just keeps getting worse!” “Is Chris trying to kill us?” Camille whimpered. “No, I don’t think so.” Cara stepped away from the window, brushing the dust from her face. “They’re just paintball guns, which are still atrociously violent but probably can’t kill you.” “Are you sure?” The black-haired girl gripped the handle of her purse tightly. “What if it was Chef shooting them?” “Don’t give him any ideas!” The nature lover gave the camera a cautious glance before gently grabbing her teammate by the wrist. “Before you screamed I saw something that I think will cheer you up. Come on.” Camille allowed herself to be pulled behind the shed, where Cara held out her arms proudly at the sight in front of them. Though from a distance it look like there were several wooden backdrops that were painted to look like a forest set up to block the back of the film lot, from close up it was clear that the beautiful woods was actually real. Deep green trees of all sizes covered a large portion of land, the cement-covered ground immediately transitioning to the dirt and winding roots of a forest floor. “It’s a real forest!” Cara pointed out the obvious, excitedly running towards the trees. Camille followed at a much less enthusiastic pace, her hesitant expression contrasting the bright grin on the environmentalist’s face. “We’re going in!” “Um, I’m sorry, but this dress is dry clean only.” The ditz shook her head. “I’m not getting it dirty if I don’t have to. You can go in, but I’m going back with the rest of the team.” Cara was disappointed at the answer, though her mood improved quickly now that she was near living flora. “Suit yourself, but you can come find me if you change your mind.” “Be careful!” Camille called after her roommate, though the nature lover had already disappeared behind the trees. “Oh, make its teeth shine so bright that they work as lasers.” Zack nodded at Wes, scribbling something onto the paper in front of him. “You know, this went from an awful joke to an all-out project.” Wes’s expression turned apologetic. “Oh, sorry, I just thought-” “I didn’t mean it as a bad thing. I really like where this is going.” The technophile and the guitarist snickered as they added more ridiculous features to their sketch of the robot version of their host, which they had nicknamed the Chris Bot. Their unorthodox way of killing time had annoyed many of their teammates, and the less tolerant Emmys had relocated to the other side of the room. Risty and Minerva were entertained enough to stay by Zack and Wes and occasionally made their own contributions from where they sat on the couch. Ophelia had tried to adjust their design flaws, though she was taking the joke too seriously and was disappointed when they refused to streamline the robot’s silhouette. She eventually went outside to paint her masterpiece for Chris, Donna accompanying her with a book under her arm. Risty leaned over Zack’s shoulder to look at his rudimentary blueprints. “I think it’s missing something.” “Like what?” The technophile glanced at the athlete, and she snatched the paper from under his nose. “''Hey!” “Hmmm, let’s see.” Risty scanned the paper with a smirk. “What do we have here, Minerva?” When Zack reached up to take his diagram back, the curly-haired girl slid out of his reach onto the cushion beside Minerva. “Oh, wow, this actually looks a lot better than I thought it would.” Minerva took the paper from Risty, who was using both hands to hold Zack off. “Oh, I know what it’s missing!” “Well, why don’t you draw it on?” Risty plucked the pen from Zack’s pocket and tossed it to the redhead. “Hey, give that back!” Zack tried to defend himself, though his act was broken by a fit of laughter as Risty held him back with only her foot. “Wes, could you give me some backup here?” “I’m not getting in on that.” Wes replied with a chuckle. “Zack, you just didn’t emphasize the hair enough.” Minerva started drawing luscious locks onto the sketch, failing to notice that Risty and Zack had suddenly stopped squabbling. “Like, I know it’s a robot and everything, but if you want the Chris Bot to be realistic he’s got to have the signature McLean Mane-” Minerva’s babbling was interrupted by somebody loudly clearing their throat. The loudmouth looked up to find Elena standing in front of her with her arms crossed. “Instead of acting like four year olds that need special education, why don’t you guys try to do something ''useful?” Elena sneered at the foursome. “Why don’t you mind your own business and go buy yourself a better attitude, princess?” Risty snapped back. “Risty, don’t!” Minerva cautioned the athlete, her hand still rapidly scribbling hair onto the Chris Bot. “''‘Risty, doooooon’t!’''” Elena mocked in a whiny, high-pitched voice. When she saw that the poor impression had frightened Minerva, she turned towards Risty. “As for my flat-chested and frizzy-haired teammate, at least I could change my attitude if I wanted to. I doubt you have enough money to afford to buy yourself a replacement for that ratchet face of yours.” “Do you want your extensions ripped out?” Risty glared at the socialite. “Because I’d be happy to-” “Guys, why don’t we all just chill out?” Wes got up from the floor and got in between Elena and Risty. “Elena, if you’d just given us a chance to explain before you had a fit, we could’ve said that we were being productive.” “''Really''?” Elena put a hand on her hip, her cold scowl directed towards Minerva instead of the musician. “How?” “We wrote the lyrics to my song for Chris on the back of the pa-” Wes’s sentence was cut off by a loud ripping noise. The lanky teen’s eye twitched a bit. “''Please'' tell me that wasn’t the Chris Bot paper.” “Oops.” Minerva guiltily held what remained of the plans out to the guitarist. She had continued sketching hair onto the Chris Bot, but Elena had drawn her attention away, and she had somehow ended up scribbling heavily across both sides of the paper. To make matters worse, Minerva had also managed to tear the paper right down the middle. “You were saying?” Elena raised an eyebrow in Wes’s direction, though he had no response. “Here, why don’t we make ourselves useful and head back to The Hotel?” Zack suggested. “We can get Wes’s guitar and then rewrite the song in peace and quiet.” “That sounds great.” Risty said as she, Zack, and Wes all rushed for the door. “Guys, wait for me!” Minerva called after them. “Um, I think maybe it’d be better if you stayed here.” Zack’s eyes not-so-subtly glanced at the destroyed first draft of the song before he shut the door behind him. “Well, that was a nice show.” Monique stood up from where she was sitting on the opposite side of the room. “Now that the drama is over: does anybody know where I can find a bathroom around here?” “Oh, I think I saw one on our tour on the first day!” Minerva leapt to her feet. “I’ll take you there!” Monique walked over to the door and held it open. “Lead the way then.” With one more nervous look at Elena, Minerva scurried out of the room. Monique rolled her eyes before following her out the door. On the other end of the mansion, many of The Oscars had also found a way to escape the room that their team was holed up in. Eric, Avery, and Paul had returned to The Hotel to gather supplies for their talents. Isaac had tagged along with the trio because he knew that he would fall asleep again if left in the library, and he more than anyone dreaded reliving The Slap any time soon. With Cara and Camille still out on their flower run, only Allison, Robert, Angel, and Irina remained. Allison sat on the floor with a pair of scissors and a pile of needles, thread, and felt, and Robert looked on in wonder as she stitched something together. Angel stood on the back of a couch in order to reach the top of the curtain that was draped over the room’s only window, Irina watching in confusion. “What exactly are you doing?” The blonde finally asked when Angel nearly lost his balance for the umpteenth time. “Trying to take down these drapes.” Angel explained, pulling at the curtain rod. “''Why?” “Avery gave me the last spot, and I just thought of the perfect idea to impress Chris.” Irina’s eyes went wide. “Please don’t tell me you’re using that curtain to make a bonfire.” “You all said nothing fire-related, remember? It’s something completely different.” The pyromaniac tugged on the curtain again, though the fabric didn’t budge. “Of course, I won’t have an act at all if I can’t get this damn thing down!” Allison sighed from her position on the floor. “Yo, genius, heads up.” Angel turned around, and she tossed her scissors at him. Irina and Robert gasped in unison as they flew through the air, but he thankfully caught them without an accident. “I should’ve thought of this before.” Angel tossed the scissors into the air and caught them in his other hand, making Robert scramble with nerves. The pyromaniac then snipped a long line across the top of the curtain, the fabric collapsing into a pile on the ground. Angel hopped down from the couch and handed the scissors back to Allison. “Thanks for that.” “Not a problem.” Allison replied, resuming her craft. “You know, you could poke an eye out throwing scissors.” Robert warned. The punk stifled a laugh. “I’ve done worse.” Irina sat up straighter on the couch, her attention grabbed. “They didn’t cast another juvenile delinquent, did they?” “Not exactly.” Allison grinned. “I’m just a bit reckless.” “What do you-” Irina was interrupted by the door slamming open and Isaac literally falling into the room, clutching his sides in laughter. Angel, Robert, and Irina watched him in confusion, though Allison ignored him and went back to sewing. Avery and Eric entered the room and stepped over Isaac, their faces suggesting that he’d been cackling like this for a while. Avery sat on the couch beside Irina and started going through a makeup bag, while Eric plopped down onto the floor beside Allison. After a minute, Paul appeared in the doorway and sighed when he saw Isaac on the floor. “It’s not ''that funny.” “Yeah, it is!” Isaac struggled to reply through his laughter. “It’s really not!” “It is!” “What’s going on?” Robert asked Eric. “Isaac thinks Paul’s talent is ridiculous.” Eric answered. “Which it is, but you don’t see me making myself look like an idiot on TV like he is.” “Considering the show we’re on, you’ll look like an idiot soon enough.” Allison remarked. “Nah, girl, I can take anything!” The jock boasted. The daredevil gave him a challenging smirk. “You’re on, then.” “What kind of talent does Paul have that’s that funny?” Angel questioned. “Knitting!” Isaac exclaimed, crawling up onto the couch beside his roommate. “Grandma Paul’s going to knit us all some sweaters!” “First of all, it’s not knitting, it’s crocheting.” The Boy Scout corrected. “And it’s not just for elderly women! I learned it at camp.” “Oh, I didn’t know there was a senior citizens’ camp, my bad.” The dirty blond teen snickered, turning to look at Angel. “This kid is just gold, Angel.” Paul just took a seat in a plush chair and pulled out a ball of yarn. “You won’t be laughing like that when Chris sees what I’m making him.” Isaac snorted. “You’re right, because I’ll be laughing harder!” Confession Cam Angel: The Puerto Rican teen had cracked up in the confessional. Between chuckles, he managed to get out, “Hey, at least I didn’t laugh at him to his face!” “What words rhyme with shoe?” “Um … do? True? Shoe? You?” “Oh, that works!” Victor scrawled something onto the piece of paper in front of him, not telling Sebastian which of his suggestions he’d gone with. The seven Emmys that had escaped due to the Chris Bot fiasco had yet to return, leaving just four of their teammates in the mansion. Victor had been struggling with his lack of poetic talent and had elected Sebastian to assist him, though the gambler wasn’t any better at it than he was. Gabe was standing just outside the door complaining to his butler on a cell phone that he had smuggled onto the show. Elena had been keeping an eye on Ophelia and Donna from the room’s only window, but she quickly became disinterested in them and was adjusting her hair in a mirror hanging on the wall. “What sounds better?” Victor asked Sebastian. “‘I want to buy your shampoo’ or ‘I want to buy your gel?’” “Why-” “Don’t question it, just which one sounds better?” “Neither,” Sebastian answered, “so just go with the first one you said.” “Shampoo it is!” Victor wrote another line on his paper, and the card player began drumming his fingers on the arm of the couch. Hearing the idle noise, Elena broke the staring contest that she was having with her own reflection to see that Victor was distracted by his poem. The socialite slinked across the room and slid onto the couch beside Sebastian, sitting a bit too close for comfort. She watched him tapping his fingers until he looked over with a raised eyebrow. “Yes?” “Oh, nothing.” Elena crossed one leg over the other. “Just wanted to see what you were doing.” “You can see that I’m not doing anything right now.” “Aw, you figured me out already.” She snapped her fingers in false frustration. “What I really wanted was to ask you a question.” “And that question would be …?” “Well, I saw you talking to Donna earlier.” The socialite walked two of her fingers up the gambler’s arm. “And I heard what you said to her about an offer.” She paused for Sebastian to respond, but he waited for her to continue. “I know that the offer you were making her is an alliance.” “Why would you ever think that?” Sebastian asked, his expression remaining bored. “Well, I-” “Quick, what rhymes with ‘all?’” Elena glowered at Victor, obviously displeased with being interrupted. “How’s about small? You know, like the size of your brain?” “Very funny.” The actor rolled his eyes. “I’m using it anyway.” “As I was saying,” Her attention turned back to Sebastian, the hand that had crawled up the gambler’s arm now resting on his shoulder. “I watch these shows a lot, and you weren’t exactly discreet about asking her.” “I really have no idea what you’re talking about.” Sebastian said. “Why would I need an alliance this early in the game?” “Oh, Sebastian,” Elena’s voice switched from sweet to sinister. “Don’t play dumb.” She put a hand on Sebastian’s face and turned it towards her. “Let’s cut to the chase, shall we? I want in.” “Define ‘in-’” “Hey, what rhymes with ‘star?’” Sebastian looked over at Victor, and Elena’s face turned red with anger. “How about car?” Sebastian suggested. “Or far?” “Far will work.” Victor wrote something down, ignoring the daggers being shot at him from Elena’s eyes. “Darling, you could do so much better than that dead-looking little pessimist.” Elena insisted, leaning against Sebastian’s arm. “Forget about Donna. Take me for your alliance instead.” “I still don’t know what you’re talking about.” The broad-shouldered teen got off the couch and walked towards the door, causing Elena to fall onto the cushion. “I don’t have an alliance, and I don’t plan on starting one.” “Then what did you offer Donna?” The wealthy girl inquired. “I don’t have to tell you.” Sebastian opened the door, causing Gabe, who had been leaning against it while making his phone call, to stumble into the room. “For all you know, I was asking her on a date.” Before Elena could protest, he pushed Gabe aside and shut the door behind himself. “She’s not even your type!” The brunette shouted after her teammate, though her cry was disregarded. "I'm your type!" She growled in frustration and smothered her face into the couch cushion. Victor stared down at her. “I take it this isn’t a good time to ask you what rhymes with ‘reign?’” Elena snapped her head up and snarled at the actor. “How’s about pain? As in you’re a pain in my ass!” “Is it just me, or is my makeup heavier on one eye than the other?” Monique inspected her face in the bathroom mirror before showing it to Minerva. “Um …” The redhead studied her teammate’s eyes. “Maybe the left eye could use a bit more?” “I knew it!” After another dab of eye shadow and another swipe of mascara, the trendsetter turned back to the motor mouth. “Better, right?” “Definitely.” Minerva nodded. “That means we’re good to go now?” “Yeah, but I don’t see what your rush is.” Monique pushed open the bathroom and walked into an alleyway between two warehouses. “I’m not in any hurry to get back to that snob’s whining.” “I just don’t want to miss our team impressing Chris.” The quirky girl followed her stylish teammate in the direction of the mansion. “I’m sure it’s not going to be that interesting, but whatev- AH!” Minerva yanked Monique behind a nearby building by the wrist. The designer ripped her arm away and shook her hand out. “What’s the big idea?! That hurt!” “Shh! Look!” The loudmouth and the fashionista peeked around the corner of the building to see Camille rustling through the leaves of a small tree. The girl in the gown thoroughly examined each branch that was in her reach, her eyes narrowed and her lips pursed in concentration. When she had thoroughly studied the entire tree, she disappeared behind a set. “What was she looking for?” Minerva whispered. “I don’t know, and I don’t really want to know.” Monique came out from their hiding spot and headed back towards the mansion. The redhead took a few long strides to quickly catch up to the shorter girl. “But don’t you think it’s a little suspicious?” “Yeah, but it’s none of our business. It’s not like she’s doing something illegal.” “We don’t know that!” “We can assume it.” The trendsetter stated. “She seems more innocent than anybody else here. It’s not like she has anything to hide-” “Oh, hello there.” Monique and Minerva screeched in unison when they heard a new voice in their ears. They turned around to find Camille standing directly behind them, her head tilted to the side. “You didn’t happen to see a tube of lipstick around here, did you? It seems to have fallen out of my purse while I was helping my friend find flowers.” Monique gave Minerva an ‘I told you so’ look. “We haven’t. Sorry about that.” “Oh, that’s too bad. I’ve been looking for a while.” Camille’s shoulders sagged. “Would you mind if I went back to the mansion with you? I want to get back to my team.” Minerva opened her mouth to speak, but Monique beat her to it. "Of course we don't mind." The three girls began to walk back to La Mansión Malvada, Camille completely unaware that Minerva was still on edge because of her presence. “Gather around, everyone!” Chris waved the contestants over to where he sat in a large red armchair in the middle of the foyer. The sun was setting when the host had finally called the contestants downstairs, and he seemed eager to see what they had prepared for him. “I’ve given you more than enough time to find some way to impress me, so let’s get this started, shall we? I won’t tell you until the end who impressed me the most, but I will cut you off if you’re boring. Simple, right? Right. Oscars, since you have a few extra tries you can go first.” A murmur ran through The Oscars as they tried to decide who they would send up first. Eventually, Allison approached the host with her hands behind her back. “I made you this.” She brought forward her hands to reveal that she was holding a small doll in her palm. It was made of felt and had a pair of black button eyes, with a mop of dark yarn hair on its head. Dressed in a familiar blue shirt and tan pants, the doll easily resembled Chris. “A doll of me?” The narcissist wondered, taking his mini-me from her. “Yeah, but it gets better.” As the host inspected the doll, Allison put her hand in her pocket and pulled out some pins. “It’s a voodoo doll.” Chris looked up at her with a white face. “Ex-excuse me?” “It’s a voodoo doll. I don’t actually think I can do real voodoo, but I wanted to try it out.” She outstretched a pin towards Chris. “Now let’s see what happens when I put a pin in it!” “No!” Chris yelped, tossing his doll across the room. Instead of landing in a safe place, it bounced off the side of Robert’s head and onto one of the candles resting on the bureau beside him. The host rushed over to pluck his miniature likeness from the fire, shaking the flames off of it and then cradling it to his chest. “I’m sorry, little beautiful person. I would never mean to make you burn! Nobody’s going to hurt you now.” Confession Cam Allison: “I don’t know why Chris flipped. I told him I don’t actually know voodoo.” The scarlet-haired punk leaned back on the bench. “I took a dare to make a voodoo doll out of my teacher once, and that did nothing, so why would this one? Plus, if I actually knew how to make it work, don't you think I'd have used it on Avery by now?” Speaking of Avery, she was now presenting her talent to Chris in the form of a manicure and a pedicure. She picked at the host’s cuticles with a small metal tool and filed his nails to perfection, which the host seemed to enjoy but wasn’t visibly in awe of. When she was done pampering him, he looked down at his hands. “They look really good,” Chris admitted, “but, bra, I’m a celebrity. I could get a manicure any time.” “One of this quality?” Avery questioned. Chris smirked. “For the big bucks, you can get anything.” A disappointed Avery retreated back to her team, and a guitar-clad Wes took her place. He sang a short, upbeat song that complimented the host, his teammates clapping their hands and tapping their feet to the beat. Though the tune sounded just like something that could have appeared on Total Drama World Tour, Chris’s unimpressed facial expression implied that he thought something was missing. “It didn’t rhyme.” He stated once the song was over. “Songs don’t have to rhyme.” Wes countered. “The more something rhymes, the catchier it is.” Chris said, tenting his fingers as though he was providing wise advice. “The catchier it is, the more likely it is to be able to be sold off as a jingle.” Wes furrowed his brow. “I didn’t write it as a jingle.” The host pointed at him. “That’s your problem.” Realizing that winning this battle was impossible, Wes returned to sit with his team. Zack and Risty, his assistants in writing, encouraged him that the host was wrong as Angel took the floor, holding the dismantled curtain in front of him like a magician’s cape. “Ladies and gentlemen, be prepared to witness a sight unlike any other. It’s the one, the only … Irina Rostropovich!” Angel pulled the curtain aside to reveal Irina crouching behind it. Giving her best seductive eyes, she prowled towards the host and sat on his lap, running a hand through his hair. “If you let The Oscars win the challenge,” She whispered into his ear, “I have connections to many swimsuit models that I have worked with who would just love to get their hands on you.” Chris’s eyes went wide. “Is this legal?” “That’s the best part!” Angel announced. “Irina is eighteen and most of her model friends are twenty-one ... and they love to party.” After running her fingers lightly along the host’s jawline, the model got off of his lap and strutted away from him. Chris stared after her, but Angel covered her up with the curtain again. “This deal can only be yours if you let our team win.” “Oh, we’ll definitely win after I show him what I’ve got!” Eric bumped Angel and Irina out of his spotlight, Chris’s glazed over expression immediately fading. “He’s gonna be so impressed with me that he won’t even bother letting everyone else go up. He’ll give me the win right here.” “Less talking, more showing.” Chris demanded, impatiently waving his hand. “The best part of the show has to have a great intro, doesn’t it?” He placed a bag at his feet. “Eric Stoneleigh, the world’s next top athlete and the best baller in the Bronx, is not only amazing when it comes to sports. He’s also the best at something else!” He leaned over to pull something out of the bag, and Paul’s face fell. “Oh no.” He muttered. “What’s wrong?” Robert asked. “Last night, Eric told me that other than sports, he only had one passion.” “What is it?” “Rock collecting!” Eric exclaimed. His arms emerged with a bounty of rocks of all shapes, colors, and sizes. “I use the time when I’m not playing sports to hunt down new additions for my collection. It’s taken me years to collect this many rocks, and they’re all very special. Take this one, for example.” The jock picked up a sparkling violet rock. “I got this from my basketball teammate after he went on vacation. He thinks it’s amethyst, like the stuff they use in jewelry. Pretty sweet, huh?” He pointed out another rock in the pile. “This one’s topaz, and this one’s quartz, and I don’t know what this one is, but it’s pretty cool, right?” Eric glanced up at the host expecting to see that he shared his enjoyment, but instead he was met with a sneer. “Next!” The jock furrowed his brow. “What did you just say?” “I said ‘next.’” Chris repeated. “As in, you’re boring me.” Eric stared at Chris, his face a mixture of shock and anger. “Whatever, man. You just don’t get it.” “I don’t think I want to get it.” The host retorted. “Somebody bring the hot model back!” Confession Cam Irina: “I know that I said I want people to appreciate me for something other than my looks, but when it comes to dealing with pathetic men, looking good is usually the easiest way to get your way.” Avery: “I should’ve known that Eric would show off his rocks if I gave him one of our six spots. I didn’t think he’d actually be dumb enough to think they were cool.” The drama queen put her forehead in her palm. “Unless the whole Irina thing works, I really hope Paul or Cara has a trick up their sleeve, or we’re doomed.” “Chris, you and I are the same type of person. We’re handsome, we’re wealthy, we love ourselves, and we want one thing and one thing only.” “Money?” Chris asked. “Yes.” Gabe smiled. “Money.” The curly haired teen pulled a wad of cash from his pocket and tossed it to the host. “Count this for me, would you?” Chris took the elastic band off of the stack of bills and ran his finger through them, counting under his breath. “This is a thousand dollars.” “Yes, it is. And it’s for you.” Gabe winked at the host. “Since you’re a smart man, I think you know that there’s plenty more where that came from. If you want a share, though, you need to give me something in return. Maybe … oh, how about a challenge win?” The vain man nodded, tucking the money into his shirt pocket. “We’ll see.” “Excellent.” Gabe took a seat with his team, earning a high five from Zack. Meanwhile, Cara stepped in front of Chris with a colorful bouquet of flowers in her hand. “I spent hours hunting around the film set for the perfect flowers, and eventually I was able to find them. I knew that I needed some truly special flowers to represent somebody as magnificent as you are.” Cara explained, pulling a group of small, midnight blue flowers from the bundle. “These are statice, which represent success. We all know you’re a very successful man, Chris, so I knew I had to include them.” “I can agree with that.” Chris smirked. “As do we all,” The brunette smiled, pulling a big red flower from the bunch. “This is an amaryllis flower. It represents beauty and pride. You’re obviously a very handsome man, and you should be proud of it!” Her smile didn’t leave her face as she showed him a large pink and yellow flower. “This is an alstroemeria. It represents wealth, fortune, and prosperity, which are things that you’re well on your way to having with such a successful career!” “You’re such a good little suck up.” Chris complimented, though the smile on his face was more conspiratorial than proud. “Where did you say you got those flowers?” “Well, I’d checked the woods, but there weren’t any there. I had completely given up when I made it back to the sets, but then the weirdest thing happened!” The nature lover moved her hands as she told her story. “Hiding behind a dinky trailer, I found a gated off area with dozens of beautiful flowers in it. There were so many that I figured it couldn’t hurt if I took a few!” Chris guffawed. “That’s what I thought you would say.” Cara’s smile fell. “Are these covered in pesticides or something?” “Oh, no, it’s much better. Listen.” Chris cupped a hand around his ear, and the room went silent. The cast could hear a faint thumping, but as it quickly got closer and closer they realized it was footsteps. Once the sound got so loud that they feared that whatever was heading towards them would trample right over the mansion, the front door slammed open and Chef Hatchet stormed in. “Who went through my garden?!” Cara’s face paled and she tried to hide the bouquet behind her back. However, the eagle-eyed Chef easily noticed and pointed a finger at her. “''You''.” Cara squealed and began to run, Chef bounding right after her. Chris laughed as the chase continued in circles around the room, most of the contestants figuring it was smarter to move out of the way than to interfere with the angry cook. When Chef eventually chased Cara up the stairs, the host summoned the next presenter. Ophelia leaned out of the front door that Chef had thrown open and pulled a large, covered object over to Chris. “Mr. McLean, I wasn’t sure that I would be able to capture your beauty in a single painting. Then, I was hit with an inspiration: pop art. I give you, McLean Frenzy.” The artist removed the sheet, revealing the object to be four rectangular canvases taped together. Each one displayed the same portrait of Chris McLean’s face, with each square rendered in different, complimentary neon colors. “It’s not quite my style,” Chris admitted, getting a closer look at the portraits, “but I can’t say anything bad about my own handsome face, can I? You’re really outdone yourself – not one but four pictures of me!” Ophelia beamed as she pushed the painting to the side, making room for Paul to approach the host. “I made this for you by hand. It’s not exactly as grand as Ophelia’s portrait, but I still put a lot of effort into it.” The Boy Scout reached into his pocket and pulled out a bundle of fabric. He unrolled it to display that it was a crocheted beanie. The crocheting was very well done, but the design was a bit … gaudy, to say the least. The hat was solid blue except for the front, where Paul had constructed an image of the host’s grinning face from different shades of yarn. “Do you like it?” When Paul handed over the accessory, Chris took a long look at it. After a moment, he smiled. “While even I’ll admit the design’s a little scary, crochet is supposed to be in this upcoming winter! Now I can be stylish and still showcase my vanity at the same time.” He gave the Oscar a thumbs up. “Good thinking, man.” Paul smiled at the narcissist, though when he turned around he made a rude face at Isaac, who shot an equally ugly face back. Meanwhile, Elena, Risty, and Zack had set themselves up in front of Chris. When Wes, Risty, and Zack had returned to The Hotel, apparently they had been feeling crafty, as Risty had a makeshift cardboard rain stick in her hand and Zack had a tambourine made out of plates. Elena cleared her throat. “A poem by Victor Phae, as read by Elena Harks.” She said, speaking in a tone that was much more serene than her usual speaking voice. “Roses are red, Violets are blue, This show would be nothing If it wasn’t for you.” At the end of the verse, Risty turned her rain stick and Zack shook his tambourine. “When I see your hair, I want to buy your shampoo, Because it looks so shiny, What brand do you use?” The instruments sounded again, giving Elena’s words a soothing backing track. “A smile so great That in the sunlight it shines, The sparkle from your teeth Almost hurts my eyes. And your acting is definitely Not amateur at all, I want to see all your movies, On the big screen or small. Total Drama is just the start, I know you’ll be a star, With a face like that I know you’ll go far. You’re practically a king, Nobody threatens your reign, You’re the wonderful, handsome, All powerful Chris McLean.” The rain stick and tambourine were played one more time before The Emmys broke into applause. Chris’s face was completely blank, as though he was still taking the time to absorb the verses. He remained silent as Elena, Risty, and Zack sat back with their team, the latter two taking bows before rejoining the group. As the deliberation continued, Cara stumbled down the stairs with her bouquet shoved into her mouth. Before anybody could comfort her, Chris stood up from his chair. “I have made my decision.” He declared. “I think most of you know me very, very well … which you should, because I’m famous. The Oscars offered me fashion statements and girls, while The Emmys offered me money and a few odes to myself. At first, I was totally going to go for the babes … but then I heard that magnificent poem.” "No way." Victor's jaw dropped. When the host took a pause to gaze dramatically in the distance, the actor confusedly looked around at his teammates. "Is he serious?" “Yes, I'm serious." Chris said. "It was a terribly written mess, but it was a terribly written mess about me! It’s not about how you say it, it’s about what you’re saying, and those were some awful verses that told everyone exactly how great I am. And it rhymed! That is the exact kind of thing that I’d force a bunch of teenagers to sing while in a dangerous situation in a foreign country on international television. As sweet as hot chicks are, this poem and the fact that the voodoo doll and rock collection scared the crap out of me are why I chose The Emmys to win this challenge!” The Emmys erupted into cheers, and The Oscars hung their heads. “Try not sucking so bad next time, Oscars. I’ll see you at the elimination.” Chris gave the teams a wink before leaving the mansion. After a moment, he poked his head back in. “Oh, and Paul? I’m keeping the hat.” “Well, that was a total crap fest.” Isaac flopped onto his bed, kicking off his shoes in the process. “Hey, I thought my idea would work!” Angel defended himself from the other side of the room. Isaac shook his head. “No, not you. Your plan was awesome, and Chris is definitely going to regret thinking with the right head.” “Good, then I shouldn’t see my name come up at elimination.” Angel leaned back on the wall beside his bed. "Voting someone off's going to be tough.” “Eh, I’m not worried about it. I’d just like to finally take my power nap.” Just as Isaac closed his eyes, there was a knocking on the door. The slacker groaned and rolled over, while Angel got up to see who their visitors were. He cracked the door open to find Cara, Camille, and Robert standing in the hallway. “Can we come in?” Angel pulled the door all the way open and held an arm out. “Go right ahead.” As Cara, Camille, and Robert got situated, Isaac sat up and shook out his hair. “What’s up with you guys?” “We weren’t really sure what to do about the elimination.” Robert explained. “It’ll be nothing to worry about.” Isaac repeated his earlier statement. “It is, though.” Camille said, placing her ever-present purse by her feet. “I don’t want to see any of our friends go.” “It was a lot easier to choose last time.” Cara rested her chin on the heel of her hand. “Nobody wants to be the first to go home, but at least we knew that we couldn’t really use Josh, so it didn’t feel as bad.” “Speaking of last time, I think it’s hard to believe we’ve already lost two challenges to The Emmys.” Angel followed up. “Compared to us, they should be weak as hell! They have those two spoiled rich kids, that hyperactive redhead, the whacked out artist, and whatever Victor is. We all get along pretty good, we’re well-rounded, and we have Robert, who’s a beast!” “Why thank you!” Robert said with a bashful grin. “So we just have to pick out the weakest link.” Isaac suggested. “But it’s so hard.” Cara protested. “Who would we even choose?” As if answering her question, a deep bass rumbled through the floorboards. This was soon followed up by a man spitting out rap lyrics, a heavy beat and the bass continuing to pound in the background. “ERIC, TURN THAT DOWN!” Avery shrieked from down the hall. “IF IT’S TOO LOUD, YOU’RE TOO OLD!” Eric bellowed over his music before rapping along with the lyrics. “OH, IT’S ON!” The five Oscars in Room 304 heard Allison laugh. Eric’s rap music was soon drowned out by Allison blasting death metal at an even higher volume. “YOU CAN’T BEAT THIS!” Eric pumped his music even louder. Allison countered this by turning her volume up even more, and the walls actually started to vibrate as Eric blasted his music at its maximum level. “ERIC, YOUR ROCKS ARE FALLING!” Paul screeched, and the five Oscars could hear the sound of dozens of objects collapsing down the hallway. This was followed by the sound of plastic breaking, and the rap music immediately cut off. “MY CD PLAYER!” Eric hollered. Realizing she’d won the contest, Allison turned her music down lower and then began to play a somber funeral march in honor of Eric’s destroyed device. “Well, I think that narrows down some weak links for us.” Isaac remarked. Robert, Camille, Cara, and Angel all exchanged glances before nodding in agreement. A couple of hours later, The Oscars sat on the bleachers at the Team’s Choice Awards ceremony for the second time. The stars that were nailed to the front of the stage had changed: each of the remaining Oscars’ stars now had another smaller star engraved onto it, representing that they had survived an elimination ceremony. Josh’s star had been smashed to the point that his name was barely legible. Chris took the stage and adjusted the microphone on his podium. “Welcome, Oscars, to your second elimination ceremony. One of you is going to be voted off tonight and will never return to McLean Studios – never ever. As I said at the last Team’s Choice Awards, the method of leaving the studios changes with the episode. Today, it’s again by limo.” He pointed at the Red Carpet of Shame, where a limousine was waiting at the curb. “To get to it, you’re going to have to avoid getting hit by the arrows being shot at you. It’s just like the archery challenge, except you’re the target, and these archers never miss.” He snapped his fingers, and the archers revealed themselves to be burly men with bows in their hands. Several of The Oscars gasped, and Chris cackled. “Chef called in some favors from his army buddies.” “I’ll never make it past them!” Camille whimpered. “You’ve all cast your votes in the confessional, so let’s find out who tonight’s loser is.” The host held a star in the air. “The first silver star of safety goes to …” He took his trademarked dramatic pause. “Paul.” “Thank you!” The do-gooder showed his gratitude as he caught his star. “You deserve it for that hat you made me, kid. The next two stars go to Angel and Irina, for their awesome attempt to distract me with the temptation of beautiful women.” The fire starter and blonde bombshell caught their respective stars. “Next are Robert, Camille, and Cara,” This time, Robert and Camille were actually paying attention long enough to catch their stars, “Isaac,” The troublemaker fist bumped with Angel, “and Avery.” The drama queen sighed in relief as she caught her star. “That just leaves Allison and Eric.” Allison fidgeted with the bracelets on her wrists, completely surprised that she was in the bottom and reluctant to go home. Eric had reacted in confusion rather than shock, his expression turning intense as he tried to figure out what he had done wrong. “Your team gave you both a chance to impress me, but it just led to two epic failures.” Chris shook his head in disappointment. “Voodoo dolls and rock collections? Seriously? You guys deserve to be here tonight. The final star goes to…” “Allison.” “Oh, thank goodness!” The daredevil caught her star with a sigh of relief. “''What?!” Eric got to his feet and glared at his teammates. “I can't believe y’all voted me off! I thought you liked me! You ''should like me, I'm the best member of this whole team!” He jutted a finger at Chris. “This is crap, McLean! You rigged the votes! You just didn’t like my rocks! How could you?!” “Hey, don’t yell at me. I’m not the one who voted you off.” Chris pointed out. A security guard walked out from behind the stage to restrain the ranting Eric, but the jock realized that his arguing was of no use and hung his head in disappointment. When the security guard retreated because he was unneeded, Allison put a hand on Eric’s arm. “It was fun while it lasted.” The daredevil said with a sad smile. “Yeah, it was.” Eric returned her grin. “You know, once you get voted off, I’ll be waiting at the Losers’ Resort so I can finally show you up.” “You say that like I’m not going to win.” “You just wait until I come back!” “Could we speed this up?” Chris asked. Finally listening, Eric made his way to the Red Carpet of Shame. He gave his team one last exaggerated series of hand gestures before the arrows began to shoot. The jock rushed to the safety of the limousine, several arrows hitting him along the way. “Now that he's gone, you guys are already down to nine players while the other team still has all eleven.” Chris pointed out when the limo drove away. “You'd better start winning or this’ll be Team Victory all over again.” As their competition was facing elimination, The Emmys were celebrating in the cafeteria of The Hotel. The team sat at their table with smiles on their faces, pasta on their plates, and glasses of soda in their hands. “To Victor!” Ophelia raised her glass for a toast. Eight other glasses clinked against hers in agreement, and they began to eat, glad that they had evaded elimination for another night. On the end of the table, the mood was much less cheerful as Elena angrily stabbed at her pasta, completely isolated from her overjoyed teammates. “I can’t believe stupid Sebastian!” She hissed to the camera. “He has the guts to lie to my face? Well, I’ll show him! I’ll find somebody stupid enough to do whatever I say and I’ll make my own alliance!” She speared a pile of pasta onto her fork, biting down on it as though she was biting someone’s head off. “They’re cheering now, but they’ll see. I’ll take over this team, and Sebastian will come begging to be in my alliance. The beautiful and wealthy people will come out on top … I'' will come on top!” “… I’d toast to that.” Elena turned to see Gabe sitting across from her, swirling his soda in his glass. “What did you just say?” She questioned. “I would love for the beautiful and wealthy people to come out on top.” Gabe stated. “We never get our way.” Elena stared at Gabe for a moment before an ominous smile spread across her face. “Then how’s about we make a toast of our own?” She raised her glass in the air and said quietly, “To the beautiful and the rich.” “Perfect.” Gabe touched his glass to hers, and they drank, the smile never leaving Elena’s face. “So, Gabe … how would you feel about starting an alliance?” '<<< Previous Chapter | Next Chapter >>>'''